SUV Six Ways: Two All-American Newcomers Challenge the Establishment Heavyweights

This might seem the absolute worst question for a six-way SUV comparison test to pose in the opening paragraph, but here we are. But could it be that this is the absolute best question to be asking in the year 2011? If it were 1998, one could simply answer, "Jeep Cherokee," and get back to buying shares of pets.com for $190 each. Forty years ago, you'd say, "International Scout," and finish installing the lake pipes on your van. But today? Today the Scout and Cherokee are long dead (RIP), and the Nissan Juke and Murano CrossCabriolet technically qualify as SUVs.

There are two possible answers. The first is that an SUV is a vehicle short on compromises and high on versatility. Of course, it will get you to 7-Eleven. Any car will do that. But this version of SUV can also take you and your (large) family somewhere. The seats can fold and suddenly you've got a junk lugger that can go off-pavement, through mud and standing water, and over (small) rocks. Got a new boat? An SUV can tow that. Since we're shooting the moon, it should be fun to drive. Good-looking, too. An SUV, then, is the automotive equivalent of a Leatherman.

Of course, there's a second, more cynical answer. It goes something like: SUVs are for people too vain to drive a minivan and too stupid to drive a station wagon. They look like trucks-even though they're mostly car-based-because the poseurs buying them need to frighten and intimidate others. New mothers feel that a key component of good parenting is swaddling your child up in a tank. SUVs waste resources, pollute the earth, and can't stop clubbing baby seals. Ever. Like most things, the truth is buried somewhere in the middle.

It's time, then, to meet our six contenders, all 28,398 pounds of 'em.

The newly mature midsize-SUV segment features one of the most closely matched sets of vehicles we've ever seen. Each SUV tested has a V-6. The smallest is 3.5 liters, the largest is 3.7 liters. The weakest engine makes 250 horsepower, while the two most potent pump out 290. Torque is even closer with 22 pound-feet separating the buffest from the most effete.

Every one gets an EPA rating of either 16 or 17 mpg in town and 22 or 23 mpg on the highway. In our own tests, the most frugal car recorded 15.9 combined mpg (Highlander), while the thirstiest recorded 13.8 mpg (Traverse). They all seat seven, except for one that seats six (the Ford came with optional second-row captain's chairs) and one with eight seats (Pilot). As-tested price is the same story, with the cheapest wearing a $40,800 sticker (CX-9), while the most expensive costs $45,515 (Explorer). The average price for the six is $42,192, with most costing a few hundred bucks less than the mean.

Aside from our usual crew of automotive know-it-alls, we brought along Mark Williams, former editor-in-chief of Truck Trend and all-around off-road expert. He makes the following salient point: "Thank God we're not grading on a curve. The top players in this segment are fiercely competitive. Worst of the group probably gets a B+, with the top spots being separated by just a few percentage points." Exactly right. Are you ready? Here we go.

6TH PLACE: FORD EXPLORERBefore we get to the specifics of why it finished last, let's go over some of the new Explorer's good points. Everyone likes its looks. It's bold, stout, aggressive. Very SUV-like, in fact. Most of us also agree that the all-encompassing MyFord Touch system is best in class. Says editor at large Ron Kiino, "I like the IP and the center stack; they're modern and functional. Overall, the interior is very handsome and high quality."

Still, there was a bit of dissent. Associate road test editor Carlos Lago logs, "When MyFord Touch works, it's brilliant. When it doesn't it makes you facepalm repeatedly." By "not working," Lago means having to hold a string of annoying conversations with a talking female computer. And he makes one final point on which we all agree: "Give me knobs for volume, tuning, and temp. Please." Still, it must be said the optional Sony-branded controls look fantastic.

We didn't like driving the Explorer very much. "Holy torque steer, Batman!" shrieked executive editor Edward Loh. "Why is this AWD beast pulling under wide-open throttle?" Because more so than any other vehicle here, the Explorer is primarily FWD, with power routed to the rear tires only when the fronts lose traction. Hence, massive, freaky, comical torque steer. The big Ford also rode worse than much of the competition. Says Williams, "The chassis needs some refinement to give it the level of sophistication and playfulness most of the others deliver." From my own notes: "Car feels wobbly at speed-not confidence inspiring."

Then there was this: "An odd squeak has developed. Seems to be coming from right rear." A moment later, I'm on the walkie to associate online editor Scott Evans. "Sounds like something in the driver-side A-pillar is sizzling." He tells me it could be the airbag malfunctioning. Great. Mr. Loh piles on, "The squeaking from the rear and the zippery farting noise coming from the windshield only enhance the rattletrap nature of the Explorer." After poking around, we learn the head-splitting rear squeak is because of a poorly fitted rear-tire aerodynamic deflector spat. Both rear tire spats eventually failed, and the trim piece flew off on the freeway.

Additionally, a front piece of bumper trim broke loose, and the MyFord Touch system shut down for about 60 seconds, taking away all climate, stereo, phone, and navigation controls before rebooting. Can all this be chalked up to the Explorer being an early pre-production vehicle? Ford assures us that's the case and all five flaws has been addressed or redesigned. Perhaps, but you know the old saying/shampoo commercial about not getting a second chance to make a first impression?

Going into this comparison, some of us thought the Honda had it in the bag. There was just something so Honda about it. And the first impressions were generally positive. Says Kiino, "Doesn't feel like the least powerful of the group. Gets up and goes just fine. Engine sounds sporty and refined-typical Honda." Evans continues, "Handles like a Honda should." Another Honda family trait shined brightly: the center binnacle storage solution, which is Christina Hendricks in a world of Jonah Hills when compared with the others.

Of course, not all typical Honda attributes are positives. As Lago points out, "In a long-standing Honda tradition, the road noise is the worst of the bunch." It wasn't just the noise. The Honda featured the worst ride, with Evans noting it rides "like an SUV, not a crossover." Problem is, the car-based Pilot is a crossover. Williams said the Pilot feels as if it's standing on its tiptoes.

Loh was less kind. "Ride is the poorest here. At first, it feels light and lively, but you feel and hear every bump and divot in the road. Lots of negative feedback through the steering wheel. Only SUV here that actually jerked the wheel out of my hands on bad pavement." That's not good. Nor are the slow steering, lousy backup camera, or well-labeled but busy collection of buttons on the center stack.

Still, there was plenty to like about the Pilot. It tied for first with the Durango in our rear-seat comfort test. We allloved how usefully wide the interior is, especially compared with how wide and useless the Ford feels. Many of us dug the almost-retro, Isuzu Trooper/Japanese box looks. Still, the Pilot shipped with the smallest wheels of the group (17-inchers-every other SUV rode on 20s except the Toyota, which stood on 19s), and while the brakes felt instantaneous and powerful, they provided the worst stopping distance at 133 feet from 60 mph. Loh sums up the Pilot best, saying, "I would fatigue over a long haul due to the NVH. I can't recommend it."

The Traverse proved the surprise of this group, especially in ride and handling. After climbing out of the Honda and into the Chevy for the first time, I asked everyone, "Did this thing always ride so well?" No one could clearly remember, but reaching back into the far recesses of his mind, Kiino remarked that, no, it didn't. Echoing my thoughts was Loh, "The ride, the ride! Where did this magic-carpet ride come from? This is a way better vehicle than I remember."

One of the biggest gripes with the Traverse is its ho-hum, fat-minivan looks. Part of the reason SUV owners like SUVs is that they look like big, tough trucks you could use to invade Baghdad. The Traverse, meanwhile, looks like a blueberry-flavored Jelly Belly. Williams says it best, "When I look at the Traverse, all I see is a generic compromise of a vehicle. But then I began pushing the chassis on our punishing road course, and it kept up with the best of the group. Good chassis, quick steering, and drives like a smaller sedan." Says Lago, "Nice driver." And Evans, "Great highway cruiser." Kiino, "Smooth, composed ride. Maybe the best here."

So why only fourth place? Pretty much everything else. Besides the dull exterior, the interior drew the bulk of our collective ire. "Interior plastics have the coarseness of a cheese grater," says Lago. More than the cheap materials, however, Chevy made some bad decisions early on in the Traverse's design phase. For instance, if you choose to plug a phone charger into the 12-volt outlet, it renders one of the cupholders useless.

Here's another example: There's only one column stalk. Meaning the wipers, turn signals, and brights are all on a single lever. A single, cheap-feeling, poorly designed lever. The really sad part is that this stalk comes from another vehicle that isn't an SUV. The controls for the rear wiper/spritzer aren't on the stalk -- they're (oddly) found at the very bottom of the center stack. The Durango is also a single-stalk type of SUV, but the Dodge version not only feels five times more substantial, it manages to sport controls for the rear wiper.

The Traverse's cabin is cavernous, something we expected from the longest, tallest, and second-heaviest SUV in the test. We like how the second-row seats are true captain's chairs, giving the rear-seat occupants the ability to stretch out their legs down the center aisle. Those same second-row chairs slide and collapse forward, providing easy access to the third row.

Finally, the Traverse was the only SUV in the test without a navigation screen. It did have a rearview camera, but it was located in the rearview mirror. It worked okay, but was by far the worst of the group. As Loh pointed out, comparing the Traverse's low-tech solutions to the Explorer's Hal-like system requires a time machine.

On paper, and for an SUV in this group, the Highlander seems to have several handicaps. It's the lightest at 4478 pounds, some 600 pounds less than the Durango. With 270 horses, it makes the second-least amount of power (the Pilot manages just 250 ponies) and its barely 3.5-liter mill (3456 cc) makes the least torque, at 248 pound-feet. It's also the shortest and narrowest. And...so what?

The Toyota was the quickest car here, blowing the competition away to 60 mph (7.1 seconds) and tying the Mazda in the quarter mile at 15.6 seconds (though at 89.5 mph, the Mazda has a 1-mph trap speed advantage). "Gutsy engine," notes Kiino. "Revs freely and pulls strongly."

"Gets unsettled too easily-more so than others-at speed on rough roads," continues Lago. From my own notes: "The faster you go, the more this thing wobbles." This feeling may havebeen compounded by the fact that that ex-Alaska governor Palin is more supportive of moose rights than the Highlander's seats are of enthusiastic drivers. "May as well have bench seats," concludes Evans.

Speaking of seats, the Highlander has one party trick that amazes us all: its magical, disappearing middle seat. Pull a strap, lift up, and the narrow-but-comfy seat is in your hands. Then all you have to do is slide it into the secret compartment under the front seat armrest. Totally brilliant. We should note that the removable and stowable middle seat in the Sienna helped tip that car's fortunes in our tightly contested, if not cutthroat, minivan comparison ("Family (Hauler) Feud," December 2010).

The Toyota's interior is a mixed bag at best. We all like the giant knobs for temperature and radio controls ("Good for the elderly," noted Loh) as much as we hate the cheesy-looking fake wood. Says Evans, "What's going on inside? The plastic pieces don't match, and the ergonomics go from great to garish as you work your way up the center stack." Ultimately, while we found much to like about the Highlander, we found too much not to like.

Sigh. This could have been such a feel-good story. We all remember how lousy the previous-generation Durango was. So bad, in fact, that Dodge stopped making it. Fast-forward a couple years and here we are with an all-new Durango that's so good it wins its very first comparo.

Except it doesn't. Second place is the most Dodge's new warhorse can muster. It tried; it really and truly tried. But at the end of the day, we just couldn't declare it the winner and sleep soundly at night. That's not to say the Durango didn't have fans. Evans and Willams both gave it the nod, while Loh and Kiino rated it second place. I was torn between it and the Mazda, going back and forth several times before ultimately reaching a decision. Lago ranked it fourth. First, let's get the good stuff out of the way. And there's a lot of good stuff.

From Williams: "The Durango does a better job of letting all sides of my personality come out and play. It's fun to drive, likes being pushed, hunkers down in the corners, and will even let me haul heavy stuff for my neighbor." We all appreciated that the Durango can tow the most-6200 pounds-and, even though it's the heaviest, it returned the second-best fuel economy. Too frugal for you? This is the only vehicle here that has an optional V-8.

Says Evans, "The Durango looks and sounds the best in this group. It handles better than most of the others, and is a joy to drive fast." This was partly due to the fact that, of all six SUVs, the Durango is the only RWD-biased machine present.

The Durango is also far and away the quietest, most refined SUV here. You can partially thank the extremely solid Mercedes-Benz-derived chassis for that (shared with the ML, GL, and R-Class, as well as the Jeep Grand Cherokee), but much respect is due to the engineers at Dodge. There is very little wind or tire noise. The ride is pretty sweet, too.

Says Loh, "Freeway ride is smooth and locked down. Driving position is excellent." I thought the front seats were the best of the bunch. The Dodge had the nicest interior with real metal and super-soft-touch plastic, though with its all-black color scheme you'd never know it.

So what went wrong? In a word, transmission. Geared for fuel economy and little else, the Dodge's old, nearly antiquated five-speed automatic just isn't up to snuff. "It feels like a slug," quips Kiino, and our dragstrip results echo those sentiments. Despite a similar power-to-weight ratio as the rest of its competitors, the big Dodge turned in the worst acceleration, with 8.5 seconds to 60 mph and a quarter-mile time of 16.4. Only the Pilot was nearly as slow (8.3 to 60 mph, 16.5 in the quarter mile, and we feel 60 mph is a more important metric for this segment), but the Honda makes 40 fewer horsepower, though it weighs 500 pounds less.

Testing director Kim Reynolds offered his take after putting the Durango's cog-swapper into manual mode. "The transmission is a mess. In manual, the tranny does everything wrong. Sometimes upshifts, sometimes doesn't. Often the display doesn't show the correct gear. I tried just putting it in D, and it virtually rolled to a halt before waking up again. I know that manual mode in these cars is rarely used, but it worries me that this is indicative of other lapses in the car's development."

A transmission is just too major a component to give a pass. Hence, the otherwise lovable Durango comes in second. But fear not, Mopar fans, in a few months, Dodge will shoehorn a new eight-speed transmission onto the end of the Durango's flywheel.

And while they're at it, here's hoping they also swap in the beautiful new Uconnect Navigation system found in both the Charger and Journey. Until then...

It's got that cartoonish Mazda smile, looks more like the Lincoln MKT in its larval stage than a proper SUV, won't handle real off-roading, and can't even tow 2 tons. It also happens to have won our SUV of the Year contest in 2008. A bit of a ringer? Maybe, but it's also the cheapest of the competitors by about $500.

The logbooks are simply overflowing with praise. Said I, "As a high speed, canyon-carving seven-seater, the CX-9 is severely gifted. It actually inspires confidence when you push, quite unlike the rest of the field." Says Kiino, "Delicate steering that's just perfect. Feels very carlike, almost like a raised Mazda6."

I'd argue it feels better than that. Then there's Mr. Williams, the "real SUV" lover, "I'm very surprised how well the CX-9 has held up over the years. Throttle response and front-end dynamics make it a hoot to take on undulating mountain roads. The excellent chassis smoothes out any nasty chop."

And that's just the half of it. Swoons Loh, "Easily the best driver here. Feels fast and light and sporty. Yes, it looks like a sport wagon and not a butched-up truck, but at least the packaging matches the dynamics." Per Evans: "This is not a crossover or an SUV; it's a sport wagon. Out of this group, the entire driving experience is second to none." Finally, Lago asks, "Can I take this one home?" Kinda says it all, no?

So there you have it. Four years on and the scrappy, fantastic-driving Mazda CX-9 is still the best seven-passenger SUV you can buy. Sure, the nav system is a generation behind the Explorer. Of course, it could learn a thing or two about interior packaging from Honda. And the Durango is four or five times better-looking. But in the end the former king conquers 'em all, once again. I'll let Loh sum up the Mazda's latest triumph: "A truly excellent package with no major strikes against it." You listening, Dodge?

This comparison is as close as they come. That's great news if you're in the market for a big, car-based sport/utility vehicle. There really wasn't a bad apple in this basket, but our evaluators agreed there wasn't a caramel-covered one, either.

While it was clear that all present made sacrifices on the altar of cost containment, each rig displayed at least one characteristic that put it above the rest. So if you want to know how to build the perfect three-row, AWD crossover, here you go:

Take the manly, but clean-shaven styling of the Durango and pair it with the agility and athleticism of the CX-9. Mix in the smart packaging and cavernousapacity of the eight-seat Pilot with the impressively integrated and voice-activated technology of the Explorer. Finish it off with the Highlander's potent yet teetotaling powertrain, and then mix in the ultraplush ride of the Traverse.